


Nightmares Following you like a Shadow

by Arcana_Daiva



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3536786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcana_Daiva/pseuds/Arcana_Daiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America sometimes has bad nightmares</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares Following you like a Shadow

America wakes up panting, the remnants of his dream vivid, flashing through the front of his mind. His past, repressed but not forgotten. _Weak, defenseless, oh god no._ He buried his head in his arms, shoulders shaking like a leaf. Fire, flames, screams, cries of agony. Help, Help, thud. The sound of bodies hitting the ground. An old man slipping as he tries to climb, two random strangers who usually wouldn't even make eye contact holding hands because they don't want to die alone. A young couple, just engaged, realizing they are looking death in the eye and won't survive the tale. A young man trying to be brave while deciding how he is going to die, suffocating, burning alive or jumping. He makes a decision, closes his eyes, places toes over the edge, 3 2 1. He jumps and says a final goodbye to his mom, who was so proud of him. Accepted to Harvard!

No, no, NO. Boom. Down goes one. Crash. Down goes the second. America wants to scream, scream until his throat goes hoarse, his vocal chords fraying. Hit something until his blood mixes in with the saltiness of his tears. Those were his people! So fragile, delicate, full of life! And in the next second gone. But America feels a slight smile tug his lips as he remembers the heroes. The firefighters, the Police, the EMT's. Never had he been so proud of his people. He draws in a shuddering breath. The moonlight shines through his window, highlighting his tears. His arms wet, eyes emptied of tears. His tear ducts dry. They say it gets better as time goes on, but America still wakes up, swearing he feels the heat of the flames on his skin. Smells the smoke. Hear the wailing of people as they hear the thump of bodies hitting the ground.He swore death took a physical form that day.

America still jolts awake, looking around, seeing nothing but himself in the dark room. He would panic, limbs flailing, vision blurry. But then he would realize nothing was there. The silence seeming ominous, the shadows malevolent. The stillness a sharp contrast to the distress in his mind. So every year America cries. Alone in his dark, empty, eerie room that is too quite. Only himself and his shadows, his demons in his mind and waits. Waits until the sunrises, dries his tears and wordlessly stands up. He goes to the window and watches the sun his hope returning. Maybe the world is not such a bleak place. In the dark light can return. Maybe, just maybe he one day will heal. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title From  
> "Your nightmares follow you like a shadow, forever. "  
> ― Aleksandar Hemon, The Lazarus Project


End file.
